Alone
by UP2L8
Summary: AU. Ten years later, and there is something else that Edward will never forget.
1. Ten Years Later

Alone

 _Author's Note_ _:_ This was inspired by graytreason's _Explosion_ , which is quite the angsty thriller. I wrote it to break out of a phase of ' _Holy crap! What_ ever _possessed me imagine that I can actually write anything that isn't total garbage_?' while I was working on Advantage, and it worked. It was never meant to see the light of day. Then, seeing-ghosts posted a totally devastating oneshot yesterday, and I decided that this had been gathering dust for too long. For what it's worth, I dedicate it to both of them. I warn you, I didn't have the skills necessary to bring this to a happy conclusion. Happy holidays to all. Enjoy?

 _Warning_ _: Angst, angst, and more angst. And oh yeah, angst. Consider yourselves warned._

* * *

Edward was placing his notes into his briefcase when the shadow fell over him, cast by the man standing in the last rays of sunlight slanting through Central Library's high arched windows. He looked up and his breath caught in his throat.

It had been ten years since last he'd seen Roy Mustang in person, and holy hell, the man was as arresting, as striking, as stunning as ever. Strong, broad shoulders, narrow hips, slim of build, eyes dark, entrancing, fathomless. He still wore the uniform like the finest of custom made suits. The only change was his hair, slicked back to showcase the distinguished streaks of grey at his temples. Ed wondered, after all this time, after all that had been said and done, how this man could still have such a powerful effect on him.

"Hello Edward." His voice was just as Ed remembered it, low, sultry, seductive.

"What the hell do you want?" He snapped his briefcase shut and swept his long coat up from the back of his chair to stride purposefully toward the stairs.

"I heard you were in town," the man said, following in his wake. "I thought we could talk."

"You thought wrong."

Sixteen years old, his quest complete, the rest of his life had been spread out before him, tantalizing, and not just a little bit terrifying. Thanks to that desperate transmutation in the Baschool mines, his life processes accelerated to pay the price, Edward had shot wildly through adolescence like a rogue missile and crashed directly into trouble.

Roy Mustang was that trouble.

"Ten years, Edward," the man said quietly, walking beside him on the grand staircase. "Have you held on to your anger all this time? Do you still hate me so much?"

"Hate's too strong a word," Edward said indifferently. "I don't hate shit, but I still don't want anything to do with it."

It had started not long after the Promised Day. In the hospital watching over a weak but recovering Alphonse, someone mentioned that Mustang was there as well, recuperating, hopeful that Tim Marcoh might return his sight. Edward had gone to visit him, to find out how he was doing, to offer his support. A simple gesture. His first mistake. He'd gone back the next day, and the next, and a friendship had blossomed. And then, soon after, more.

"Not a day goes by that I don't think about you. About us." There was subtle longing in Mustang's sombre voice.

Ed didn't spare him a glance. "I don't waste my time thinking about you at all."

It had fallen apart suddenly and completely, but it didn't take a genius to see it looming on the horizon. He really should have expected it, but he'd been young, and stupid, and yes, he'd been in love. He'd thought – no, he'd _known_ Roy loved him too, and Ed had trusted that, trusted Roy's assurance that everything would be alright, trusted empty promises of always and forever whispered in the dark.

"I'm sorry. Truly, deeply sorry. I had hoped you would move on, find someone who would make you happy, but . . ." When Edward did not take the bait, Mustang continued. "You don't have anyone special in your life. You haven't . . . since. You're alone. As am I."

"We get what we pay for, Mustang. Equivalent exchange."

"Equivalent exchange?" The man scoffed. "You didn't deserve any of it. Come home with me. We can talk, perhaps . . . set this right."

"Forget it." Edward didn't bother to lower his voice, drawing frowns from the librarians as they walked past the checkout desk. "I'd be a fool to go anywhere with you, and I won't be your fool ever again. I've got better things to do than be used and then thrown out with the trash."

They say that promises are made to be broken, especially when a life's dream is at stake. Ed had given up everything to get Al back – his alchemy, and consequently the military, along with his sense of direction. But Roy? Roy still had had everything to lose. Ed remembered that devastating day, the day Mustang had told him it was over, with perfect, painful clarity. Mustang had tried to be gentle, but there is no gentle way to rip out a heart.

"I thought I was doing what was best for both of us. I was wrong. I have regretted it since the moment I closed the door behind you." There was honest remorse in Mustang's voice.

"Tell somebody who gives a shit."

Because Ed didn't. Not anymore. Mustang could shove his bullshit. At the time, the Big Chair, the Führer's position, was up for grabs and the battle was on to see whose ass would warm it. Mustang had dumped Ed flat because he'd feared the opinion of his peers, the negative impact that an intimate relationship with a former, much younger, male subordinate might bring. What was best for Ed, what Ed might have needed or wanted, was never a concern. And the hell of it was that after all his plotting and scheming, after all his political manoeuvrings, after sacrificing Ed on the altar of image management, in the end Mustang's ass had not been selected for the honor he so diligently sought. Ten years later he still sat on the sidelines. Perhaps he always would.

Either way he would do it alone.

"I never meant to hurt you," Mustang said.

"But you did anyway," Ed observed coldly.

He had stumbled out of Roy's life, shaken and bereft. He had gone from the warmth of shared pleasure under crisp white sheets to a threadbare blanket on the couch in Al's small apartment; from a beautiful dream to stark reality in a shattered heartbeat. It had felt as if his life was ending, and in a way it had been; a door had slammed forever shut on the kind of life he should have known he couldn't have.

Mustang was not done. "I loved you Ed. Believe it or not, and I still do. We were amazing together. We had a whole year of amazing together. You can't tell me that meant nothing to you."

"It meant a lot more to me than it did to you." Edward pushed through the front doors and stepped out into the sunset. "You fooled me once with your fancy words and false promises. I'm not a naive kid anymore, and I'm certainly not stupid enough to fall for your bullshit twice."

Ed couldn't deny that Mustang had taught him a lot. About sex. About trust. About love. And about pain. The most important lesson he'd learned was that it was better to be alone than to suffer the cold anguish of discovering that you weren't worth it. It was a lesson he didn't need to repeat.

"I know I made a terrible mistake," Mustang said earnestly. "I know I hurt you. But I've learned from that mistake. I know now what I was throwing away when I told you it was over. I won't make that mistake again. All I want is a chance to prove it."

"You've got to be kidding."

"I'm not, Ed. Please. Al has made Xing his home. You're alone. Can you really be satisfied with your life with no one to share it? I know now that I can't, and I don't think you can either."

But Mustang was wrong. Ed _was_ satisfied with his life, and while it wasn't perfect, he'd worked hard to make it meaningful and fulfilling.

It had been a long hard road, learning to live for himself. Alphonse had been there for him of course, as Ed had stumbled clumsily along trying to find his way, keeping busy by occasionally tutoring a few of Al's Central University classmates. When one of them had casually mentioned who was responsible for her substantially improved grades to a professor, the man had come to personally offer him a job as a teaching assistant. By the end of the year he'd had a full scholarship. He'd rocketed through his studies in the Faculty of Archeology, earning his first degree in two years, his Masters in another, his Doctorate in one more. People knew him now as Dr. Edward Elric, PhD., celebrated archeologist, no longer just a stray dog off the military leash. He had a new purpose, a new place in the world, and that place was the ruins of Xerxes, carefully uncovering how his father's people had lived, learning about a way of life long forgotten but endlessly fascinating.

As for someone to share his life, he could share his life's work with the world. That was good enough for him.

Edward stopped to look the man square in the eye. "I lost my alchemy, my purpose, my livelihood, and then I lost you. All your promises are worth is a door slamming in my face when something better comes along. So thanks for the memories, you piece of shit. I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than spend one more second anywhere near you."

Mustang did not follow him this time as he started away. Descending the wide stone steps in the dying light of day, Edward glanced back for a final look at the man standing there, and was ashamed to admit that he felt a small twinge of satisfaction at the pain and disappointment he found in dark eyes. Ed had cared for this man once, loved him. Was he really so petty, to enjoy Mustang's regret just because the man had hurt him, long ago?

Mustang's eyes sparked with hope at what he perceived as hesitation on Ed's part, and he took a small, tentative step toward him.

Edward turned away.

He walked forward.

Because that was what he did best.


	2. Ten Years Too Late

Author's Note: Okay, so, more angst. I mentioned to Seeing-ghosts that Roy was clamoring to tell his side of the story, and the response was, 'I say let him whine! For a few thousand words!' So. Yeah. Still no happy ending I'm afraid.

Chapter Two: Ten Years Too Late

Roy watched, heart aching, as Ed walked down the stairs and away.

Ten years. It seemed such a long time to wander alone, bereft by his own, deliberate actions. Worse was what he had done to Edward. He had been so sure that time would heal the wounds the younger man had suffered by Roy's hand, but it seemed that those wounds had cut far too deeply not to scar.

All of it. Roy's fault.

Because he had taken it much too far to simply back out.

And then he had backed out anyway.

It had started innocently enough. Roy had been sitting bravely in the dark at the hospital, hands healing, waiting for Tim Marco to return Roy's sight so that he could make good on his promise to return the Ishbalans to their holy land. He had known Edward was in the hospital as well, hovering over a newly restored and kitten-weak Alphonse. When the young man had turned up in Roy's room one quiet afternoon it had been a pleasant surprise. Edward had barged in all bluster and bile, no different than if his commander had been sitting smugly behind his desk, the same sarcastic, manipulative, procrastinating Colonel Bastard he had always been, and Roy had been touched beyond words. His few days of blindness had been a crash course in the sound of pity in another's voice, and he'd hated it. For the next two weeks, Edward had made a habit of coming to visit every day, right up until the Elric brothers had left for Resembool.

Bizarrely enough, Roy had missed him.

When he had returned to his office after three weeks of recovery, Roy had been startled to discover the steel armor that had formerly contained Alphonse sitting in the chair behind his desk, the dull-eyed helmet resting incongruously in his empty outbox. Ignoring Havoc and Breda's snickering, Roy had arranged for the armor to be shipped to Resembool, thinking that it would be the last he might ever have to do with the brothers Elric. At the time, the notion was bittersweet.

Six months later, he was proved wrong.

Ed had come back to Central, closing in on seventeen years old with a nearly recovered little brother in tow. Alphonse had promptly applied to Central University and had been just as promptly accepted, acing the entrance exam and earning a full scholarship. And Edward had showed up in Roy's office one day, dangerous with a new awareness. Just as Roy had always feared, Edward had finally seen the bickering, the taunting, the mutual animosity for what it really was – a smokescreen behind which dangerous desire lurked.

Roy tried, but it was pointless to resist. Edward wasn't interested in Roy's views on propriety and decorum. He never had been, really. And Roy had been pressing back his desire for the young man for too long to deny himself when everything he wanted was suddenly, shockingly, possible. He had managed to stand firm until Edward turned seventeen, but no longer.

As an adult, Roy could not recall ever being truly happy. With Edward, that changed. Their first night together was a revelation. Edward had not been completely innocent, and what he lacked in the experience department he more than made up for with enthusiasm and ingenuity. As with everything else, Edward threw all of himself into the relationship, holding nothing back. Roy couldn't get enough. It wasn't long before Edward was all but living with his former commanding officer, and Roy was more content than he had ever been in his life. Of course, given their dynamic, he was also often irritated, aggravated, and completely pissed off, but he made sure he gave as good as he got, and it was clear Edward wouldn't have had it any other way. It was an unusual relationship, but they were unusual people, and it worked. More than worked; it was pure bliss.

And it was doomed from the start.

After a year and a half in office Führer Grumman suddenly announced his intention to step down by the end of the year, citing age and failing health as his reasons. The race for the Führership was on, and Roy was a clear front runner. His rivals were desperately searching for ways to discredit him, clutching for any straw that might cast him in an unfavorable light, and Roy knew Edward could very well be that straw. The character and morality of a man having regular sex with his former, much younger male subordinate was sure to be called into question. Edward was a weakness that Roy's opponents would gleefully exploit, certainly with devastating result.

Just as concerning was how Edward would be affected by the inevitable attacks. As much as he might deny it, Roy knew the young man was still struggling to come to terms with the loss of his alchemy. Beneath his tough exterior there beat a heart that had been battered and bruised far too often. Edward didn't need to be dragged into the quagmire that was sure to form around them, to be smeared by the mud maliciously slung by Roy's rivals. After many sleepless nights of agonizing soul searching, Roy had reasoned that it was the lesser of two evils to cut Edward loose. He would be sparing the young man the undoubtedly vicious harassment to which he would certainly be subjected, and at the same time spare Roy's reputation the damage from those attacks as well.

Roy had chosen to end it. He still considered it the biggest mistake he had ever made. He knew he had hurt Edward badly.

And Edward had not been the only injured party; it had also hurt Roy to bid his golden lover farewell, and not just on an emotional level. Ironically, the loss of Edward had meant Roy's political downfall as well.

Roy quickly discovered that in many ways his young lover wasn't a weakness; he was actually Roy's strength. Without the younger man by his side, Roy found that he simply didn't have the focus, the drive, the _fire_ he needed for that most difficult of contests. He was off balance, second guessing his strategies, struggling in the game like never before. No doubt guilt played a large part in it, but more than that, the lack of his beautiful lover, his bluntly honest champion, his fiercely loyal friend, played an even larger role. It was one thing to have the support of loyal subordinates behind you. It was another to have your soulmate by your side.

To make matters worse, Roy's relationship with his most dedicated subordinates suffered as well. After the breakup, his team had kept their opinions to themselves, but their sideward glances and confused frowns had said it all. The Elrics had always been held in high regard by Roy's staff, and they couldn't fathom their commander's callous handling of the elder. Hawkeye in particular had become uncharacteristically remote toward him. She had continued to function efficiently as his adjutant, but she had made it clear that she did not approve of Roy's cold-hearted treatment of their young former comrade. Even now, years later, his friend of many years held him at arm's length on a personal level, and Roy felt his seemingly heartless action toward Edward had ultimately cost him _two_ close friends.

As for the rest of Roy's command, they refrained from ever making mention of the Elrics in Roy's presence, and that was exactly what he wanted – distance. He didn't need his Aunt Chris telling him he was an idiot to know he had made a mistake; the enduring pain he was in was proof enough of that. He didn't think he could stand to know how badly he had hurt Edward as well.

And as much as he hoped that Edward would find someone else to share his life, Roy didn't think he could bear to see it.

So he had deliberately cut himself off from all knowledge of the Elrics.

Years passed. Though the pain of loss eased, Roy found that meaningless trysts with anonymous warm bodies no longer held any appeal for him. He continued to go through the motions, feeling more isolated by the day, until he finally gave up, resigned to his solitary fate as the years passed him by.

And then Roy had overheard Hawkeye speaking with Falman in the breakroom about running into Edward that morning in Central, lamenting the fact that the young man continued to avoid his old friends, and how with Alphonse now living in Xing, Edward was truly alone in the world.

Roy had been struck with a sorrow so powerful it was like a physical blow. This was his fault. He deserved to be alone, but Edward deserved better. The urge to see him, just to lay eyes on the young man, came on strong, and he decided to indulge that urge, just this once.

It was easy to predict where the younger man could be found. The musty stacks of Central's imposing library had always been Edward's sanctuary and solace. Roy had honestly resolved not to approach him; he had wanted just to see him. After ten long years, he could at least allow himself that much, couldn't he?

Roy had been unprepared for his strong, emotional response to the sight of his former lover. Strangely, ten years had hardly faded the memory of the young man he had deliberately avoided all that time. Edward had changed of course, but at the same time he had not. His eyes were still fire-lit amber, his hair still gleaming gold, his bearing still gracefully confident. He had grown, however, to within an inch or two of Roy's height – a pleasant surprise Roy should have anticipated, given how young Edward had been when last they'd stood face to face. And he had matured beautifully. Roy couldn't help but admire broad shoulders, narrow hips, the swell of a muscular chest under a white button down shirt, sleeves rolled up over tanned, toned forearms. Edward's sun bright hair was tied back in a high tail that fell well below his shoulders.

In his absence Edward had grown to become a stunningly attractive man, and Roy had tossed away the privilege of watching that happen. He mourned the loss of those years. Could anyone blame him for the surge of hope that it perhaps wasn't too late, that he didn't have to lose any more? Impulse broke Roy's resolve, and he had approached.

He should have known better than to hope.

So many lost moments. So many regrets. All because of a single, devastating decision Roy had made for both of them.

And now, fittingly, Roy knew he would henceforth drift aimlessly. Alone. As Maes Hughes had contended so many years before, to reach his goals Roy would need the unconditional support of a lifemate to keep him going when the going got rough. He had not believed that contention, and had chosen to take on the world singlehanded. His regret for his stubborn stupidity was surpassed only by his longing to turn back the clock to make it right, for both himself and for Edward.

Unfortunately, moving forward was now Roy's only option.

Today had proved that Edward was lost to him, of that he no longer had any doubt. It was fitting that Roy be left alone. It hurt, oh yes, but not as much as the knowledge that Edward had chosen to forego other relationships after Roy. He had broken the younger man's trust, for good, and for all. He had taken that beautiful, vibrant, open heart and dealt it a crippling blow; it had crept away to hide in the safety of darkness, never to see light again.

A greater sin no man had ever committed.


End file.
